


After It All

by oldmountainsoul



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Epilogue, F/F, First Dance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmountainsoul/pseuds/oldmountainsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Absolutely shameless self-indulgent fluff, post game. A dance and the beginnings of a life away from it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After It All

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompts 'a request and a promise' via the amazing pomegrenadier

The ceremony was stifling. After three hours of standing at parade rest through countless speeches, Revan was not exactly in an accommodating mood when she received her honors. She had accepted with a curt ‘thank you’ and then kept proper form only long enough to get out of the spotlight.

She and Bastila had only managed to persuade Admiral Dodonna and Master Vandar to reconsider presenting Bastila her own medals for finding the Star Forge, as it was deemed best that the young Jedi stay out of the limelight for the time being. They had refused to be persuaded to offer Revan the same courtesy however, and so here they were. The awards ceremony had just ended, and her dress whites were covered with medals she hadn’t even known the Republic had.

She had attended as Alderys Lytan, Republic Linguistics Specialist, even though she and Bastila had both received official pardons and technically should have attended as official representatives of the Order. The both of them had refused, preferring to blend in–well as much as they could at least–and they had both had enough of the Jedi. The news of Revan’s ‘defection’ and Bastila’s fall were both strictly classified information; as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned, Darth Revan was dead and Bastila was a hero of the Republic who had never strayed.

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, scanning the main hall for Bastila. She knew the younger woman had attended, though she had been sure to take her place discreetly. Flattering as it was being the guest of honor at the Republic’s famous Senate Tower, Rys felt less than appreciative of the marble halls and aurodium statues at the moment. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands of people in attendance. It could take hours to find her.

   But with a stroke of luck, she finally spotted her sweetheart. Quickly weaving her way through the crowd and dodging reporters and politicians, she came up behind the Jedi and tapped her shoulder. “And so it ends,” Rys murmured in Bastila’s ear. She had jumped when Rys had approached her, but she relaxed as she realized who it was.

“And so it ends,” Bastila echoed, turning to face her. Rys sucked in a quick breath as she not-so-subtly gave her a once over. It was a sleeveless, deep navy blue, floor-length ballgown, fitted from her waist up and flaring out slightly at her hips. She was suddenly very grateful that neither of them had worn Jedi robes to the affair.

“You look like space. I mean–oh damn it all... You look lovely. Like deep space. I love space. I love you. I–-you’re beautiful. Please stop me before I embarrass myself further,” Rys stammered, her mouth gone completely dry. The Jedi smiled indulgently, though her eyebrows were raised and there was a distinct mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s quite refreshing to see _you_ flustered instead for once. Please, do go on,” she teased.

“And here I thought the Jedi were merciful,” the older woman groaned.

“Perhaps I’d be willing to consider it if you asked me to dance,” Bastila replied hopefully. “Though I wouldn’t know a single step, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll lead, then. I once knew a few steps, at least. We’ll manage.” Rys beamed, sweeping into a deep bow and offering her hand. “Bastila Shan, would you do me the honor of this dance?”

“I would,” the younger woman smiled, taking her hand.

Rys lead them both to the floor. As they reached the other dancers, she guided Bastila’s other hand to her shoulder and then rested her own free hand on the Jedi’s waist.

“Mirror how I step, move with me and we’ll be alright,” she murmured. “It’s not too terribly difficult.”

 “Alright,” Bastila replied, brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on mimicking the former Sith. She figured it out quickly enough, and as they settled into a rhythm, Rys decided it was safe enough to attempt to speak as they moved across the floor.

“So,” she started.

“So,” Bastila murmured, looking up from their feet to meet her eyes.

“Do you like what you see?” Rys teased, flashing what she thought to be a dazzling smile.

 Bastila laughed. “It’s no secret that _you_ certainly think you’re attractive.”

“And are you of the same opinion?” Rys pressed, her grin growing wider every second. “Dress uniforms have a certain air to them, wouldn’t you say?” 

“It’s certainly quite… _elaborate_. I’m not entirely certain how you’re still standing with all that metal on your shirt,” the younger woman replied, running her hand down Rys’s shoulder to trail across the pins on her chest.

“Perhaps I’m just waiting for you to sweep me off my feet, then,” the former Sith raised her eyebrows and pulled her closer, holding her tighter to her waist.

“We’ll see about that. …If I were I to admit a certain fondness for your current appearance, just how insufferable would you be for the rest of the evening?” Bastila murmured, resting her hand back on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Absolutely insufferable,” Rys grinned.

“Are you ever not absolutely insufferable?”

“Never,” she replied, sweeping Bastila into a twirl. “So you admit it then, that you find me _outrageously_ attractive in these ridiculous formal clothes?”

“Now that I certainly did not admit.”

“You didn’t have to, love,” Rys winked.

“You’re right, you _are_ always insufferable," Bastila rolled her eyes. “But if you can manage to be serious for a moment, what are we going to do? The war is won, the Republic is rebuilding and the Enclave is gone. After all that’s transpired, what will become of us? Of… _this_?”

“Well... almost every dignitary and officer of note in the entire Republic is in this building. A well-timed assault could effectively decapitate the recovering Republic with a single stroke, and I could offer you the galaxy at your feet,” Rys replied nonchalantly.

Bastila blanched, “Please don’t even joke like that.”

“My apologies. I won’t anymore. Though I would have, if you’d wished it. If I thought it would make you happy, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. But I doubt it would make you happy. So! That leaves our other options. We could return to the Jedi, and assist with rebuilding, though I doubt they would know what to do with us, and I have no desire to ever deal with the Council again.”

“I’m not sure we belong with the Jedi anymore,” the younger woman sighed, pensive. 

“I doubt they would approve of our great love story for the ages. So that leaves a third option: we could simply leave, and never look back. Live in solitude with no responsibilities. Perhaps Jolee would be willing to rent us his stump...” Rys postulated, cracking a half-smile.

“Maybe not on Kashyyyk...” Bastila laughed. “But it’s a pleasant thought, no more Jedi, no more Republic, no more fate of the galaxy resting on our shoulders…”  

The movement finally came to a close, and Rys swung the younger woman into a dip, holding them both in place for several seconds.

“Then we’ll find a place. Perhaps a small agriworld of some sort, far away from it all.”

“I think I’d like that,” Bastila murmured, a soft smile on her face.

“I think I would, too,” Rys replied, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She pulled Bastila back on her feet, offering her arm as they made their way off the floor with several of the other dancers.

“Then it’s settled, we’ll run away together, whenever you’d like.”


End file.
